Starry Eyed
by Windracer Leopard
Summary: Haven't you ever been starry eyed?


_If I could take a day and pin it on the wall, as an example of how every day should be from now on, this would be the one._

**He tells himself he doesn't need anyone, never needed anyone. Makes dealing with the pain easier. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He doesn't need to take care of anyone. No need to hang around to form relationships that can be taken in the blink of an eye. **

**Others need her. That's what she tells herself. She can't think about herself because she's too busy thinking about everyone else. If she thinks about herself, that lets the pain in. No time to do what makes her happy – she's broken now. Just take care of everybody else and it will be fine.**

Sasha lives in the moment – what makes him happy now, he does. Amber's different – always looking ahead, so focused on the bigger picture, the future, the big unknown, she's forgotten to look at how she feels now. It's hard, talking to her. She makes him think about the future, and he doesn't want to. Doesn't want to have to think about what could happen tomorrow. Maybe that makes him irresponsible. But he doesn't mean it like that.

**She intimidates him. It's strange – he doesn't normally allow himself to back out of things. Life's too short, and all that. But Amber's special – he knows that, even if she doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to upset her. So he does nothing.**

He tells her she's special. No-one's said that too her in a long time – not since the virus. They just expect her to take care of them, take her for granted. It's nice (is that word strong enough?) to have someone who sees her, for once.

**When he looks at her – asking, with his eyes – he only knows that he wants her, now. She makes him happy. And that's what Sasha does – what makes him happy. And it'd make her happy too. But she asks about the bigger picture, and he's honestly shocked. He's forgotten how to think ahead, to think of consequences. He's asked her to do something she, with her focus on what is to come, cannot do. He doesn't mean to hurt her.**

He acknowledges consequences. She curses the future. It's a victory for both sides. One day, one of them will have to sacrifice a part of them, and they both know that. But now, they both have each other and they're kissing and they're both happy and they both know that.

**They pull apart slowly, reluctantly. They're both smiling. Amber reaches up to play with his hair.**

"**I can't stay."**

**Her fingers still. "You're still leaving now?"**

**He gives a reassuring smile. "Not now. But one day."**

**Her fingers remain immobile, like they're frozen. "You could stay."**

**His hand goes up over hers. "I can't. I'm always moving on. Don't stay in one place."**

**His hand is warm. "I know."**

"'**To hell with the future', remember?"**

"**Yeah." And she pulls him forward to kiss him again.**

It's established from day one – there's no future in this. One day, Sasha is going to leave. But that's in the future, so Sasha doesn't think about it and Amber lives in denial, and it may not be the most healthy relationship but it's working.

**There's no future in it. She knows it and she's mildly disgusted at herself for giving into these feelings. But he smiles at her, and her heart does somersaults. It feels… nice. But he cannot stay. One day, she'll open her eyes and this pretty bird will have flown away. But he's here now. And so her damnation of the future is a mantra in her head – she's living here, in the now, and he's here, in the now. It may not end up okay, but it's okay for the moment.**

He wants to take her up on her offer, he really does. But it seems too rushed, like they don't have time. And they have time. They have to have time.

**They keep talking about time. When she asks "What time is it?" she means "How much longer do we have?" When he says "We've all the time in the world" he means it, as much as he knows how. He tries to look ahead, but he can't think on being apart from her, ever, so that's what he sees.**

The trip to the beach is the breaking point. Sasha's been functioning well in the mall, even thinking that, perhaps, he could stay. But he steps outside and realises he hasn't been breathing.

"**Look. The sun's setting." It's true. She watches as the water glimmers.**

"**I'm not tired."**

**He glances at her. "You sure you're ready for this?"**

**She smiles. "Yeah."**

"**Really?"**

**She laughs. "Yes, Sasha. Would I lie to you?"**

**She wouldn't. Amber would never – he's not sure she could. That kind of honesty is rare these days.**

**He pulls her towards him and kisses her. She tastes like the future.**

She expects to feel different, somehow. More grown up, maybe. But she wakes up, and she's still the same old Amber. Maybe that means she was already a grown up. She sure has been acting like one, looking after everyone. But Sasha's shown her how to be a kid again – the kid she'd be right now if the virus didn't exist – and it's made her realise she doesn't really want to be an adult. She _likes_ being a kid. But the Mall Rats won't take care of themselves…

**She does not ask him to stay again. He does not offer. They both know there is no future in that – Sasha is of the world. Sasha belongs to the world, and the world belongs to him. You might as easily try to tie down the wind. He cannot offer – he would leave, sooner or later, or stay and forever be not himself. He likes them all well enough, and he's liked the mall, but he does not feel alive unless there's real earth beneath his feet and wind in his hair.**

**But if she were to leave…**

**There is possibility in that. A small shred of possibility, but possibility nonetheless. She could learn to forget about responsibilities and look after herself. She has not done that in so long. It's all about Patsy, or Cloe, or the rest of the Mall Rats. Never about Amber. And the air makes her happy, as the mall makes him sad. So maybe…**

He knows he's being selfish. He is asking the near impossible of her – to drop everything, every shred of responsibility, and come away with him. He does not ask himself to do the impossible, and neither does she. He hates it, but it's how it must be. He cannot make offers he cannot hold up, promises he cannot keep. It's not his way. He's liked it in the mall, truly, but he cannot stay. He doesn't get tied down – that's not his way either.

**This kiss is different – hard, aggressive. Ironic, that just after she says she'd give up everything and go away with him, she kisses like she'll never see him again.**

**Still, he's not complaining.**

**They sink onto the blanket, still melded together at the lips, and her hands are making daring little ventures underneath his shirt. There's something else ironic – under the shadow of his inevitable departure, they pretended they had all the time in the world, and now they're going to be together always, he wants now now **_**now**_**. (And so does she, judging by the position of her hands and the pressure of her tongue.**

**He's still not complaining.)**

**He breaks the kiss and looks at her, asking with his eyes, and she looks proud, strong, and oh so beautiful. "Yes," she breathes. So he pulls her back to kiss her again, and her hands grip his hips.**

There's no chance of him settling down at the mall, but there's a chance – a tiny, minute possibility – of her leaving with him. She just must not look back.

"I want to say goodbye."

No. She can't. One sign of her previous life and he'll lose her. But he can deny her nothing.

He hopes that, perhaps, the mall will be clean and everyone will be fine and it's clear they don't need her. It was, or course, too much to hope for.

Don't wait. Don't look back. And never say goodbye. She's broken all the rules and he's lost her. He could have protested. Should have protested. But he can deny her nothing

"Just go."

He doesn't want to leave her. He could try, he knows he could try to live in the mall. He also knows that it wouldn't last long. He would leave eventually, and that would hurt her more. But it would give them a little more time…

This inner monologue is pointless. She has asked him to go. It's for the best. He can deny her nothing.

So he turns, walks away. Doesn't wait. Doesn't look back. Doesn't say goodbye.

**When she goes back to the mall, everyone's still clustered on the stairs. She takes in Patsy and Cloe's relief, Trudy's sympathy, Bray's triumphant smirk. She ignores them all (ignores Sasha's broken face, imprinted on her eyelids). "This place is a mess. Go on, you all better start cleaning." She gives the order confidently, as though her cheeks aren't stained with tears and her eyes aren't swimming with more.**

After Sasha leaves, Amber dreams about him. She sees him again and again, like he's a movie imprinted on her eyelids, running over and over. Some nights, she just sees him walking, strolling cheerfully along to who-knows-where (certainly not him), smiling. Flowers spring up beneath his feet. Other nights, he's playing his flute, and a line of children are following him. She recognises some of them – Patsy, Cloe, KC. Laughing, until they all turn into rats and tumble off a cliff into the sea. Others still, the movies are memories, flashbacks, and she wakes with the ghost of hands on her skin and a tingle on her lips. When she's had a bad day, he's kissing some nameless, faceless girl. She wants to look away or slap him or rip the girl into tiny pieces, but she can't move and she can't shut her eyes and it _hurts_. When she's had good days, they run along a beach hand in hand, until he stops and kisses her like he used to – slow, gentle, like they have all the time in the world. She isn't sure which dream she hates more.

**She hates him. Why didn't he stay? She hates herself. Why didn't she ask? She hates him. Why didn't he offer? She hates herself. She knows why. He could not stay, he doesn't know how. He withdraws into himself and lives as he does because he has too. That's how it works now – they all have their own ways of coping. He moves on, doesn't stay long, doesn't have a purpose, doesn't get attached. She throws herself into work, into looking after her tribe, has to have a purpose or what is she?**

**He doesn't hate her (could never, the very **_**idea**_**-). He hates **_**them**_**. So dependant on her, as though she's their mother. Taking her for granted, when they're so, so lucky to have her. Until their time at the beach, he'd bet she's never had a day off. Shackled (and that is **_**just **_**the right word, they're like **_**chains**_**) down with the responsibilities of someone twice her age. She'd wanted to come with him, he could see that, see that it would make her happy (he'd never have asked otherwise), but she stayed. He doesn't resent her – she had to choose whoever was more likely to die without her, and the Mall Rats appeared to have won out. Indeed, from the state of the mall when they returned, he was inclined to agree. But they could have been okay, if they had to be. Would he? She was the first person – since the Virus – he'd let in. Loved. Needed – and that was terrifying to admit, even to himself (everyone leaves in the end – it's easier not to get attached.). If anything, that's who he resents – himself. If he'd admitted that he needed her, maybe she'd have stayed with him. But she still may have stayed with the Mall Rats, and opening up to her and being rejected was something he could not take (and she needed to believe he didn't need her, or she'd never be able to live with herself.). Besides, he could survive without her, he'd be alright – eventually. But then, so would they. The thoughts spin around in his head, cawing like seagulls, and he isn't sure who to blame (but not her, never her.). He just… misses her. Wishes she was walking beside him.**

She keeps the necklace. Trudy never took it to Patsy, and she can't seem to bring herself to part with it. She leaves it wrapped in the bright orange paper, and keeps it under her pillow. When she misses him (which is more often than she'd like) she takes it out (never taking off the bright orange paper). Sometimes, she throws it across the room. Sometimes, she holds it close to her chest.

**Turns out he was smart to have memorised her from every angle – how likely is it that they'll see each other again? He shuts his eyes, and remembers her smiling (the most pressing memory is the one of her crying as he left her behind, but he doesn't want to remember her like that.).**

A week after Sasha's left, Amber slips unseen into the pharmacy, and takes a small white box of a shelf. She isn't sure what she wants it to say. It doesn't matter. Either way will have its good and bad points.

When it comes out negative, she breathes a sigh of relief through her tears.

_**Do you wish you'd gone with him? **_

_**Sometimes.**_

_**I suppose you wonder where he is and what he's up too. **_

_**Most of the time.**_

_**I suppose you wonder if he's missing you as much as you're missing him.**_

**All the time.**

**She's broken apart, she can barely function, let alone lead this tribe (and isn't that why she left him? To lead? Then why can't she **_**get up**_**?) And when she pictures him, he's always happy, playing his flute, winning the hearts and minds of everyone he comes across (and doesn't she know all to well how **_**that **_**works.). Why should he miss her? He left, didn't he (and that's not really fair, he was always going to leave, she knows that, but it still **_**hurts**_**)? He was always happy, she's sure he's already moved on (and more than anything, that **_**stings**_**.). **

**He hasn't, of course. He thinks about her every day, sees her everywhere he turns. But she'll be okay, she has the kids. She has work. She has **_**Bray**_** (and more than anything, that **_**stings**_**.). Amber's the strongest person he knows – she'll be just fine.**

She knows what Bray's going to say – she isn't oblivious. And she's sort of eternally grateful for Lex turning up when he did. She doesn't know how to respond to that yet – not when her head is full of Sasha, still. She lied – she still misses him, maybe always will. He took some part of her when he left. But there's still most of her left, and that's enough to function. Isn't it?

**Kissing Bray is nice, wonderful even, but the empty space in her (the part Sasha took when he left) is aching. She'll never be whole, but Sasha's gone now, long gone (maybe the virus got him… no, she can't think about that.) and she has to move on. She can't be moping after Sasha her whole life. So, she'll ignore that empty space inside of her (ignore the necklace underneath her pillow), and go back to kissing Bray.**

He's true to his word – he always remembers her (how could one forget someone like that?). He wonders if she remembers him. Wonders if she's moved on. Wonders if she she's even still ali-

No. That's nonsense – Amber's strong, a survivor. She's just fine. She's gotten together with Bray and they're leading the Mall Rats and everyone is fine. And as for him, well, he'll be okay too. He prefers it on his own anyway.


End file.
